Eight Years and One Flower
by KissofJudas
Summary: It's been eight years since his position at the bar was taken from him. And this Valentine's Day, Phoenix Wright feels more alone than ever. Rough story, all fluff. Be kind.


_Had it really been eight years?_

Eight years since he'd lost his license to practice law. Eight years since he'd had to take off that badge he'd worn so proudly. It had really been eight years.

And as a counterpoint, it had been a year since he'd seen Apollo rise up to take his own place at the bar. He'd been jaded then, cynical and unsure of the system of law he'd once worked for. The MASON System had been working its way into the courtrooms, and he was finally starting to see some consequences. It was working just as he'd hoped. Some courtrooms would never truly let go of the older system...but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Now Trucy and Apollo were working out just fine on their own, though that didn't keep Justice from asking about the former lawyer/piano player/poker champion/anything else he'd tried about his own thoughts on coming back to court. And he had considered it. Apollo had given him new faith in defense attorneys...

_And maybe I'd see him._

Phoenix shook his head, pushing his beer aside. _Grape juice is nice but some days it just doesn't cut it. _There was no use thinking about things like _him_. No point in it at all. Any trust, any respect, any ground he'd ever gained with him would have been lost the moment he was convicted for falsifying evidence. For someone who knew the smack of that accusation all too well, it wouldn't have sat well with him.

_But even so..._ Phoenix glanced at his calendar as the radio that played in the background spat out another sappy over-sentimental love song. February 14th. Valentine's Day. He'd never paid much mind to the holiday – at least, not after he broke up with Dahlia (the mere thought still sent shivers down his spine) – but for some reason today had been different. Every bouquet of flowers he saw, every box of chocolates, every overpriced card and teddy bear and balloon made him wish things were different.

He'd tried, once, to surprise Mia for Valentine's Day. He'd bought her a hot chocolate from her favorite store, and a small box of chocolates, along with the tamest card he could find. It wasn't much, but he was still new working with Mia – he hadn't even had a case yet – and he wanted to impress her. To his luck, the floors had been waxed recently and he'd slipped in his new shoes, sending her cocoa and the chocolates all over the floor and his suit. Mia had just laughed, picked up one of the chocolates that landed on him, and helped him up. "Thanks for trying, Wright – and a happy Valentine's Day to you too," was all she said.

Pearls, of course, had always wanted her Nick to pull out all the stops for Maya, but he'd never quite done anything that fit her specifications. It didn't matter, logically, that Maya was perfectly happy with a chocolate sucker and a meal out at the burger joint. "It's not nearly romantic enough," Pearls would say – and 'Nick' had never had the heart to point out anything otherwise.

But after he'd left law, after the Feys had gone away and he'd retreated to the Borscht Bowl Club, he'd never really thought of it again – until now.

He looked over at the flower he'd bought on his way home. It was a sad looking flower, one that had fallen away from the rest of the bouquet. The girl that sold it to him gave it to him for a bargain; she said no one else would have wanted it. He knew why – it wasn't the prettiest flower she had. But its color spoke to Phoenix. It was a deep pink, almost bordering on purple...a rich shade of magenta.

Just like his suit.

He closed his eyes. Nothing was going to bring that cursed man out of his-

_*Knock knock knock*_

"Someone's here...?" No one came to visit anymore. Phoenix stood slowly, shifted his hat slightly on his head, and walked over to the door. It took him almost a full minute for his mind to process the sight before him.

"Are you just going to stand there gaping at me, Wright, or are you going to let me come in?"

The terse tenor snapped through Phoenix's daze, and he nodded quickly, stepping out of the way. "S-sorry... Edgeworth." _What was he doing here?_ "I...I just wasn't expecting to see you."

"Mmm. Someone had to come ensure you weren't dead yet." The prosecutor looked around the apartment, steel grey eyes scanning everything with a cool precision that Wright remembered all too well from the courtroom – and not just from Edgeworth. "I see some things never change. Your apartment is a disaster."

"Well, I didn't exactly know I was going to have company, Edgeworth," Phoenix replied, pushing a stray box into the garbage can. "I'd have cleaned if I knew you were coming."

"Mmm." Edgeworth strode toward the living room, then stopped abruptly.

Phoenix came up behind him. "What?"

"That." One slender finger pointed toward the lone flower in its vase. "Where did it come from?"

"Bought it from some girl on the street." Phoenix shrugged. "I liked it."

The prosecutor was silent for a moment, then turned to look at Phoenix. It felt like hours that those cold grey eyes just watched him, before finally Edgeworth raised a hand and poked at the button on Phoenix's hat, an odd look flitting through his eyes.

Phoenix's eyes turned up, peering at the edge of his hat. "What? What's wrong with my hat?"

"You look like a homeless beggar." Edgeworth's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why does that button look familiar?"

Phoenix pulled off the hat, ignoring the disaster he was certain his hair was, and looked at the pin with a small smile. "It's from Ema – you know, Lana Skye's kid sister? She gave it to me, a while ago."

"I remember who she is." Edgeworth's eyes lingered on the hat for a moment before coming back up to look at Phoenix.

It was another long moment before the former attorney just sighed and crossed his arms. "Edgeworth, if you've just come here to stare at me-"

"Miles."

Phoenix blinked. "...What?"

"You're not a defense attorney anymore. You may as well call me by my first name."

"...You still call me Wright."

"Old habits die hard." The prosecutor took a few steps away, crouching to peer at the flower – and as the two stood so close to each other, the similarity in color made Phoenix smile. It really was the same shade of magenta.

"Well whoever you are. Why'd you come?" Phoenix moved to sit on his couch. "After eight years, you just show up at my apartment and start commenting on how messy the place is – why?"

"Is it so hard to believe that on a day such as this, I wanted to see a man I once called friend?" The man's voice was soft, and he wouldn't meet Phoenix's eyes.

"Edg- Miles..."

"But if you'd have me go, I can leave." Edgeworth straightened up, eyes flitting to the door.

"No," Phoenix responded, a bit too quickly than he should have, perhaps. Miles' eyes came back to him. After so many possible sentences fought to emerge, finally one came with a small smile. "I'm just thinking – should we call Larry then too?"

This time it was Miles that spoke too quickly. "Absolutely not."

Phoenix had to chuckle. "So what's a pair of guys like us to do on a day like today?"

Edgeworth's hands slid into his pockets, a classic indication from all those years ago that Miles had found himself off of comfortable ground. "Given the state in which you live, I can't imagine your finances are much improved."

"You try living better than this on unemployment."

"Mmm." Edgeworth cleared his throat. "Then perhaps we can get dinner. ...My treat. I may even buy you a drink."

"Pulling out all the stops, hm?" Phoenix had to grin as Edgeworth's expression grew increasingly uncomfortable. "Come on, Miles. Let's go have dinner." As he stood and walked toward his childhood friend, he grabbed the flower from the vase, snapped the stem in two, and tucked the blossom into Edgeworth's shirt pocket. "Happy Valentine's Day."

After a moment of staring at the offending flower, Phoenix could almost see a flicker of a smile pass across Miles' lips. "The very same to you, ...Phoenix."


End file.
